


Down a Notch… Or Eight

by ladydragon76



Series: Down a Notch... Or Eight [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-22
Updated: 2011-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-14 23:52:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 19,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/154824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragon76/pseuds/ladydragon76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> From the tfanonkink.  What if Megatron’s got that old slave programming?  What happens if it gets turned back on?  I love the kinkmeme!  People ask these kinds of questions there.  This time I answered.  =D  Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> **‘Verse:** G1  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Pairings:** Megatron/Optimus  
>  **Summary:** From the tfanonkink. What if Megatron’s got that old slave programming? What happens if it gets turned back on? I love the kinkmeme! People ask these kinds of questions there. This time I answered. =D Enjoy!  
>  **Warnings:** Non-con, dub-con, and yes, consensual. =D No doubt some slight OOC, though I tried my best to keep everyone in character, some verbal bondage, and light restraint, but nothing much, and obviously AU.  
>  **Notes:** [Original Request Posted Here](http://community.livejournal.com/tfanonkink/491.html?thread=1876203#t1876203), and the original anon posting [here](http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/603.html?thread=2307163#t2307163).

“Uh oh,” Megatron heard as he watched Optimus Prime throw himself to the side in the same instant.

Then the explosion sent Megatron sailing.

He crashed to the rocky ground, head slamming back into a boulder hard enough to shatter the stone, and send his gyros spinning. He lay there dazed for a moment, trying to clear the static from his vision while internal diagnostics flashed damage and status reports across his HUD. There was a tiny red symbol in the lower right corner. Odd, that was vaguely familiar. What was it?

“Don’t move, Megatron,” Prime ordered.

Megatron shifted his optics up. The little alert was still blinking a distracting red as Megatron focused on the barrel of Prime’s blaster. He followed that barrel up to the hand that held it in a steady grip, index finger depressing the trigger and ready to squeeze. He followed the arm to the shoulder that held that damnable Autobot sigil, and finally to Prime’s narrowed blue optics.

The annoying little red alert flashed once more, then blinked green. Status scrolled quickly, then dropped away.

Megatron felt a heat creep across his circuits, and cursed.

“Tell your troops to stand down.”

Megatron opened the main channel. “Decepticons. Stand down.” He gave Prime a nasty grin as his optics widened in surprise. The Decepticons obeyed, but their confusion was palpable. Megatron felt Soundwave’s light probe, but he was too busy swearing to be concerned over his subordinate’s intrusion.

Prime continued to stare, and Megatron snorted in derision. The fool.

“Order them to retreat,” Prime commanded, and Megatron snarled as he obeyed. Unicron take him!

There was a beat of silence. Prime’s finger tightened on the trigger. Then Soundwave lifted off, spurring the other Decepticons into action. Even Starscream was too confused to comment.

The silence prevailed even after the loud rumble of jet engines faded into the distance. Megatron ground his teeth together, and seethed, unable to move thanks to Prime’s command.

He was so close. This planet and its rich resources would enable him to reclaim Cybertron. All he needed to do was destroy the mech in front of him. A lash of pain shot across his systems.

Yes. All he need do was the one thing he would never be able to do.

Destroy his master.

Megatron’s entire body vibrated with a continuous, enraged growl.

“So… We gonna take him prisoner then?”


	2. Part One

He obeyed as commanded, kneeling before the mech, saying, “Yes, Master,” and lowering his optics to the floor.

Megatron had worked the mines for as long as he could remember. He was well-built for it, large, strong, but in the last few orns he had been experiencing an unusual heat and pain in his circuits. It had finally gotten irksome enough that he told his supervisor.

There was a flash of fear as his master stepped closer, then that heat intensified. Was he defective? Megatron knew what happened to defective slaves. It wasn’t pleasant, and was certainly not what he wanted.

“I hear you have been having some new… sensations lately.”

“Yes, Master,” Megatron murmured.

“Good. I’ve been waiting for you to mature to this point.”

Surprise overrode all else for a moment, and Megatron’s optics shot up, meeting the glowing blue of his owner’s.

His master chuckled, fingers grazing Megatron’s cheek. “I’m going to enjoy this,” he murmured. Then, voice stronger, commanding, he said, “Kneel beside that berth.”

Megatron had been in a number of cave-ins and rather harrowing catastrophes, and had merely done his part, working to save their lives, and clean the mess. Fear rarely touched him, but he was trembling with it as he obeyed. He didn’t want to be deactivated, and he didn’t want to be punished for something he had no control over. He despised that.

His master stepped behind him. “Spread your knees further apart, and lay across the berth.” Megatron obeyed, flinching as a hand moved over the armor between his thighs. Something clicked, and the panel there retracted. “You will not move unless I tell you to.”

“Yes, Master.”

Hands stoked and pet along Megatron’s back and hips, and heat spiraled through his body stronger than ever before. He held still, trying to keep his respirations calm as those same hands gripped his hips, and something bumped against him where the panel had been.

Then there was nothing but pain, and Megatron hearing his own screams for the first time in his life.

Through the stabbing pain he could hear his master’s voice. Words Megatron didn’t quite understand, grunts and moans. That voice behind him suddenly became deep, smooth, weight pressed down against his back, and the pain dulled.

“Megatron,” Prime purred into his audial, hips rolling, spike gliding across internal sensor nodes, banishing the last of the pain. Megatron bit back a moan. “Megatron.” Prime’s voice was low and raw.

“Megatron!”

Megatron’s optics snapped open. He snarled, turning to glare at his new master through the energy barrier of his cell.

Prime sighed, and Megatron could imagine he was frowning in irritation behind that damn battlemask. “Why are you still in this cell?”

Megatron reset his optics, then laughed. Fragging slave programming, of course Prime wouldn’t understand. The fool was practically a youngling still, at least compared to Megatron. But then who wasn’t? “You did tell me to not even think about escaping.” He chuckled again, covering the rage for now. Prime’s confusion was amusing. “Do you know how boring it’s been in here? I’ve been unable to even fantasize about breaking out.” Or a rescue for that matter, but Megatron was not about to comment on the need to be rescued from anything.

Prime’s frown was back. “What game are you playing now, Megatron?”

He rose, angry, and strode to the barrier. “I assure you, _Prime_ , this is no game.”

“Then what is it?”

Megatron glanced past Prime, resisting the order for a moment. The programming only required he obey, so long as he intended to, he could stall the incapacitating pain. He glared at the two Autobots by the door.

“I’m waiting,” Prime growled, and Megatron was compelled to answer.

“I must obey you,” Megatron grit out, optics shifting back to Prime.

Ironhide laughed, and Prime pinched the bridge of his nose. “And why must you obey me?” Prime asked with another sigh that clearly stated he didn’t believe it.

“Because I am your slave.”

Ironhide laughed harder. “I didn’t know there was anyone left with that programmin’!”

Prime looked over at Ironhide, body tensing. “What?”

“Let me comm Ratch,” Ironhide said. “He can confirm it.”

“This is some elaborate hoax. You’re making it up, and Ironhide has been spending too much time with the twins if he’s willing to play along.” Prime paced a bit shaking his head.

Megatron snarled. “Oh yes, poor Optimus Prime. Pity him now that his most powerful adversary is completely at his command.” Megatron’s fists clenched, and he fought the wave of hatred. He needed to remain composed. Things could be worse. Prime was a soft-sparked do-gooder of a fool. There were ways around the programming. Prior experience taught Megatron that he was only _compelled_ to obey the orders given at face value. Speech was full of idioms. Loopholes could be exploited. Masters could be manipulated.

Prime stopped pacing as the brig door opened. Ratchet entered, and ignored the still smirking Ironhide. “Order him to answer me honestly,” Ratchet said to Prime.

Prime blinked, and Megatron shook his head, going back to sit on the cell’s berth. He pushed the anger down, and settled into a comfortable sprawl, knowing the image would look confident, insolent for a slave, but Megatron had not been given any orders yet on how to scrape and bow. Until then, he would treat this cell as he would his own ship. He was lord and commander, slag the programming!

“Will you answer honestly?” Prime asked.

Megatron smirked, letting that be his answer.

“Primus!” Ratchet swore. He continued in an undertone to Prime that Megatron couldn’t hear, but could guess at.

“You will answer Ratchet honestly.”

Sneering, Megatron purred, “Yes, Master.” Prime’s flinch was very satisfying.

“You were onlined with slave coding?”

“Yes.”

“What happened to set you free?”

“My master was killed in a cave-in through no one else’s design.”

“He had no named heir?” Ratchet asked.

“None that I knew of until after the code went dormant,” Megatron replied, his tone bored.

“What were the circumstances that drove the coding dormant?”

Megatron narrowed his optics at the medic. He was being very specific. The question was why? “Only two other slaves were present when the cave-in occurred. One was offlined when our master was. The other fought me for dominance. I won.”

“Why were you in a cave-in? I know you were a gladiator,” Prime said.

Megatron clenched his jaw. “I was a miner first.”

“Enjoyed that first taste of killin’, huh?” Megatron glared at Ironhide. As if the warrior had any room to talk. Even Megatron had a healthy respect for Ironhide’s battlefield prowess. He was under no compulsion to answer Ironhide, however, so remained silent.

Ratchet put his hand over the cell lock control. “I’ll need you to order him to remain still, and compliant so I can check his systems.”

Prime nodded. “You will not harm Ratchet.” Megatron noted the edge in Prime’s voice. Slave or not, he would recognize the threat should he harm the Autobots’ prize medic. “You will remain still, and let him check you over thoroughly.”

“Yes, Master,” Megatron growled, Prime’s repeated flinch at the term helping him control the fury throbbing in his spark. Proper title it may be, but Megatron resolved to call Prime ‘Master’ at every opportunity just to irritate him.

The containment field was lowered, and Ratchet entered. He must have been pretty certain of Megatron’s condition, given the easy confidence with which he moved.

Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face, because Ratchet smirked at him. “You don’t want me dead,” he murmured, sitting beside Megatron, and connecting himself to Megatron’s medical port. “I know all about that ‘capture, don’t kill’ bounty you have on me.” Megatron forced away the revulsion he felt as the medic moved through his processors. “How’s old Hook doing these days?”

Megatron grimaced despite his efforts. He preferred to let Soundwave tend any wounds that his self-repair couldn’t handle.

“Well, slag me. There it is,” Ratchet said. “Damn, you’re old.” He laughed, shaking his head, and disconnecting from Megatron. “He’s all yours, Optimus.”

“I don’t want him,” Prime replied. Ironhide was laughing again.

Megatron growled. “Oh, believe me, Master,” another flinch, “I don’t want this either.”

“How do I free him?” Prime asked.

“You can’t, Optimus. He’s a slave. He was _created_ as a slave. He has no choice but to obey you now.”

“He must obey me? Whatever I order him to do, he must?”

Megatron rolled his optics, but Ratchet was nodding. “Yeah. And you’re stuck with him too, but I’ll give you more information on why in private.” Ratchet glared at Ironhide. “And you’ll keep your mouth shut about that, or I’ll weld it to your aft.”

Megatron looked back at Prime to see he was watching him with intense optics. “Megatron, I order you to no longer be a slave.”

Megatron heard Ratchet’s shout, but the black closed in before he could respond. He returned to consciousness to the sound of fluent cursing that curiously matched his own thoughts, but were not spoken in his voice.

Megatron opened his optics, and saw Ratchet above him. Above…? Oh, yes. He was lying on his back on the cell floor. At least the convulsions had stopped.

Searching and finding his idiot master, Megatron pulled his best ‘you’re a complete moron’ scowl and said, “That’s called a paradox, Prime! And there are faster, easier ways to kill me. Just order me to rip out my own spark already, and be done with it!”

Blue optics shot wide. “No! No, don’t kill yourself. In fact you’re not allowed to kill yourself. Ever!”

Megatron wasn’t the only one staring at Prime like he’d lost his mind, which Megatron was sincerely beginning to wonder about. He snorted, half amusement, half derision. “As you wish, _Master_.”

“And stop calling me that!”

He grinned. Was Prime losing his cool? Megatron snickered despite the ripple of discomfort punishing him for not acknowledging the order, but it dissipated as Prime pinched the bridge of his nose again.

“Call me ‘Prime’, or even ‘Optimus’, but not ‘master’.”

“Of course, _Prime_ ,” Megatron said, doing his best to make it sound the equivalent of ‘master’.

Prime sighed, but instead of debating, asked, “If I order you to never harm another Autobot again,” Megatron rolled his optics, ignoring the tweak Ratchet gave a sensor node in reproach, “can I trust you and this slave coding of yours enough to let Ratchet repair your battle damage?”

“You can order anything you like, Prime, and I must obey.” Megatron paused a moment. “Though I am curious why you would have me repaired.” He was pushing, but reminded himself that other than the order not to call him ‘master’, Prime had not given any rules of conduct relating to Megatron’s renewed slave status.

“Autobots don’t mistreat our toys,” Ratchet murmured. The dig stung far more than the repairs to his charred circuitry, and Megatron reined in a growl, refusing to show the shot had scored a hit.

Unaware, or perhaps ignoring his medic’s comment, Prime said, “Then I order you to never harm another Autobot again. Nor any of our allies.”

“Yes, Prime.”

Prime winced. “Take him to the medbay. Megatron, you will obey Ratchet until I come for you.”

“Yes, Prime.”

Megatron followed Ratchet, hearing as Prime ordered his officers to their meeting room. ‘Toy’ echoed around his mind. Prime may not know just how true that was yet, but he would learn. And frag the pain. Megatron would resist the need as much as possible. He had come too far to ever be reduced to begging his master to let him overload again.


	3. Part Two

Megatron growled as he woke from the forced recharge.

“Oh, don’t bother pouting to me,” Ratchet said from off to Megatron’s left. “I’m a real medic, not some back alley wire splicer. I don’t leave my patients awake for painful repairs.”

Choosing not to dignify the pouting comment with a response, Megatron glared at Ratchet. “I can assure you my tolerance of pain is well beyond what you pathetic Autobots-“

“Save it, Buckethead.” Megatron’s mouth dropped open a little in shock before he could completely stifle the response. Ratchet smirked. “My medbay, my rules. Leader of the Decepticons, Prime, warrior, or slave. When you’re in my ‘bay, I’m in charge. And don’t think you’re getting treated any different now because I think I can get away with it since you’re a slave.” Megatron bit back a growl at the continued use of the word ‘slave’, fairly sure the medic was goading him regardless of what he said.

“I’ve informed Prime of his, shall we say, _unique_ responsibilities to you now. He’s off debating with the other officers about where to keep you without telling them why you need to be kept close, and not in our security monitored brig.”

“I don’t particularly see what it matters whether he tells them or not,” Megatron said. Leave it to Prime to try and save his worst enemy some dignity. He snorted, sitting up. “I would, however, have enjoyed watching you inform Prime of his… unique responsibilities.”

Ratchet’s optics narrowed. “Hide knows, and still wants you thrown in the brig to suffer. I’m not entirely sure I disagree, but I know how to pick my battles with Prime. His mind is made up. He’s just got to convince the others it’s for the best, and how it’s going to be.”

“If our positions were reversed-“

“Starscream would be telling you that you’re not fit to be a master to a slave, and the other ‘Cons would be cheering you on to rape Prime within an inch of his life. Yes, I know.” Ratchet flapped a hand at Megatron in airy dismissal. “News flash. Prime’s not you. Autobots are not Decepticons. Here we like to understand command decisions, rather than follow blindly.”

He ignored the hypocrisy of that last statement, and focused on a different issue. “You seem to be picking up a habit of interrupting me,” Megatron said, voice dangerous and low.

Ratchet raised an optic ridge, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “I could make it so you can’t talk at all. You were told to obey me.”

Megatron snarled, but the medbay door opened. Prime entered, looking rather worn. He looked to Ratchet, asking, “His repairs are complete?”

Ratchet nodded. “There’re some minor dings still, and his coding seems to be settling out still, but his self-repair has it all well in hand. He’s all yours.”

Prime sighed, and Megatron began to wonder if the mech was capable of any other form of expression. “Come, Megatron. I’ll show you to my quarters.”

Megatron obeyed, annoyed on top of everything else that Prime let his own officers badger him to weariness. True, Starscream was obnoxious, and Soundwave would speak up if he, on the very rare occasion, suspected Megatron might be making a mistake. However, when Megatron said a decision was final, that was it. Prime was weak.

A wave of discomfort rolled across Megatron’s circuits, and he once again forced back his rage. There was precious little he could control at the moment, but his own reactions were top among them. This damnable programming was not going to break him so fast. He was not an ignorant youngling anymore.

Prime punched in a code, and a door slid open. He waved Megatron in first, the door shutting behind them.

Prime’s quarters were a bit of a surprise. Self-sacrificing twit that Prime was, Megatron had expected it to be austere and lacking in simple comfort. Instead he noted a large desk with its comfortable looking chair in a corner. There were a number of shelving niches, all full of book files. Two more chairs faced one another over the top of a low, small table, and there were a good number of collected items throughout the space.

“Through there is my berth, and then off the side of that is a private washrack,” Prime said. He seemed to fidget, and Megatron let a grin curl across his mouth. “Ratchet explained the coding would, um, require I overload you.”

“Do you even know what an overload is?” Megatron snickered.

Prime’s optics narrowed into a glare. “Quite well. How often am I going to have to do this?”

Megatron shrugged, wandering the edges of the room, trailing his fingers over a small crystal cluster. “You don’t actually have to do it at all.”

“Ratchet said it would hurt you. That eventually your systems would shut down, and you would offline permanently.”

Megatron looked back over his shoulder at Prime. “Exactly.”

Prime shook his head. “I have no desire to see you suffer into deactivation.” Megatron turned back to the book files he now stood before, picking this or that one out, curious what Prime found worthy enough of reading to bring from Cybertron in their initial exodus. He heard a sigh from behind him, and smirked. “I’ll try to make it good for you,” Prime said, and Megatron shut his optics, and inhaled in an effort to keep his temper contained. This hesitant, and likely blushing under that damnable mask, mechling was his new master?!

“The science team has assembled,” Prime said before Megatron could tell him not to bother. It wasn’t as if his previous master gave a frag about Megatron’s pleasure. The overload was merely the inevitable reaction to physical stimulus and the program requiring it. The pain was in being denied the release.

“You may read whatever you like, recharge. If you want, the vidscreen is set to the local entertainment channels. Stay in my quarters, and don’t break anything.”

Megatron sneered at the idea of watching human entertainment, but schooled his features blank as he turned to face Prime. “Yes, Prime.”

Prime shook his head, and left, the door beeping as it locked.

Megatron pulled a few more book files, but none of them were of any interest. Autobot so-called ‘Golden Age’ history, and political thesis. He snorted. Propaganda. A glossy, surface view of Cybertron that had only existed for the wealthy and elite.

Like his previous master.

Bored, and trying to distract himself from his currently impotent rage, Megatron went to inspect the rest of Prime’s quarters. The washrack was fairly standard for a ship of the Ark’s class, but the berth was large. Megatron sat on it, optic ridge arching at just how plush it was. He lay back, gaze sweeping the room, and noting more knickknacks and personal items.

The berth was _very_ comfortable.

Megatron was already succumbing to recharge when he realized he was obeying his master’s suggestion.


	4. Part Three

“Your systems are showing stress,” Ratchet said as he poked his stylus at the datapad in his hand.

“I’m surrounded by Autobots. It’s my own personal smelting pit. The Unmaker is punishing me for his own twisted amusement,” Megatron said in a dry, flat tone.

Ratchet snickered, then removed the cable connecting Megatron to the datapad. “Well, as soon as we get your programming mapped, we can see about finding a way to break that slave code, and get you the slag away from us.”

“You’ve said as much the last few days. This grows tedious. How long can it possibly take to copy my internal coding?”

“You’re being cranky today,” Ratchet observed, then cracked a grin. “More so than usual. Does somebody need laid?” he cooed. Megatron growled low in warning, not that it ever seemed to bother the medic. True to form, Ratchet set aside the datapad, unfazed. “Prime’s busy, so I get the joy of taking you back to his quarters.” He gave Megatron a glare. “You will follow me, and not deviate from the course. When we get there you will enter, and stay there doing whatever you usually do while waiting for Prime to return. Understood?”

“Understood,” Megatron said through gritted teeth. He may have to obey Ratchet, but he didn’t have to be polite, and he hadn’t yet been ordered to use any particular title.

The walk to Prime’s quarters was more eventful than usual. Most Autobots didn’t dare say anything when Prime was with him, but now the few Megatron and Ratchet passed murmured behind their hands, and snickered as he passed. Ratchet said nothing to encourage or discourage them, and Megatron tried to ignore the sense of embarrassment creeping up on him.

Just like last time, this enslavement would end. He would be freed from his order to not harm Autobots then, and they would all pay for their disrespect.

As Prime’s door lock engaged, Megatron struggled to ignore the fact that his last enslavement had lasted over fifty vorn, and his master had been a comparatively fragile, small mech. Optimus Prime had proven rather difficult to kill over the eons.

Megatron would admit to the truth of Ratchet’s words, however. His systems were taxed, and so far the best thing he had found to stave off the need for Prime’s touch was recharge. He wouldn’t be able to avoid the inevitable, but maybe he could endure a few more days?

He huffed at his own ridiculous hopes. The scientists would not break the slave code before Megatron succumbed his body’s need for his master.

Megatron lay back, and cycled into recharge.

Only to lurch awake, spark pulsing, body humming with pent up desire. Seeing Prime standing over him, optic ridges furrowed, made the heat rush through him, enough so that his respiration became audible.

“You need it?” Prime said more than asked, his voice low.

Megatron thought of denying it, but a jag of pain stopped the lie. Slaves don’t lie to their masters.

“Megatron.” The tone demanded an answer.

“Yes, Prime,” Megatron ground out, fists clenching and unclenching by his sides.

Prime nodded. “Open,” he said, gesturing towards Megatron’s interface panel. Megatron obeyed, fighting the urge to spread his legs further. There was no denying Prime was uncomfortable with this, and Megatron was not going to make it any easier on him.

Prime sat on the edge of the berth, his back to Megatron, careful that his hip didn’t touch Megatron’s side. His hand hesitated over Megatron’s pelvis for a moment.

“It doesn’t matter how good it is,” Megatron told him, fists balled up tight as he tried to keep the need out of his voice. He could feel his valve lubricating already, and heat tingled throughout his body. “Just that it happens.”

“I’m not used to-“ Prime cut himself off, and squared his shoulders. “Release your spike.”

Megatron blinked in confusion at the back of Prime’s head even as he obeyed. Was the great Optimus Prime a valve mech? That was considered so submissive. As long as he’d known Prime, Megatron could admit that he would never have pegged him for submissive in the berth. Or anything really, not with the way he liked to throw himself in Megatron’s path for confrontation after confrontation.

The hand that closed around his spike was strong, the grip firm. Megatron focused on his respiration, trying to keep it as close to normal as possible. Prime was facing away from him completely, his other hand curled over the side of the berth.

Megatron struggled with the urge to thrust into the smooth strokes. Was this it? Was this all Prime _wanted_ from this aspect of their new dynamic? There was a shame, a humiliation there, and the programming and old conditioning conspired against Megatron, telling him he wasn’t _worthy_ of being fully claimed by Prime.

He shook it off, and bit back a gasp. How long had it been since he’d taken a lover? Too long, his body screamed, and he was no longer able to keep the sharp panting breaths from escaping. Certainly not since waking on Earth, and Megatron wasn’t particularly given to pleasuring himself either.

The stroking picked up in pace, expert squeezes, and a thumb rubbing over the tip pulled a gasp from Megatron. His hips twitched back and forth in rhythm to Prime’s touch. Megatron shuttered his optics and bit his lip, giving over to the rising ecstasy, thrusting in earnest now.

He grunted once with his overload, stifling any further sounds through sheer will. Prime stroked him though it, then stood without looking at Megatron when his spike retracted.

At the sound of water running in the washracks, Megatron sat up. He closed his interface panel, grimacing at the silvery-purple spatter of his transfluid on his abdomen and lower chest plating.

“The washrack is all yours if you want it,” Prime said, and exited to the front room without even so much as a glance at Megatron.

Megatron wasted no time in going. He set the solvent temperature to just hotter than was comfortable, and relaxed into the burn, sinking back against the wall. He was shaking in reaction, assaulted by memories and the poisonous lick of humiliation. Even if this did end, how would he ever look Prime in the optics again?

A whisper in his mind said slaves weren’t good enough to look their masters in the optic.

With a snarl, and more force than necessary, Megatron changed the solvent setting to cold, and began scrubbing vigorously.

He eventually regained his center, and set about a more thorough grooming, going so far as to buff a thin oil into his armor. Megatron did not consider himself vain, but he knew he wasn’t ugly. His old master had often stated how esthetically pleasing Megatron was. For a time it had gotten him out of the mines. Unfortunately, the pain of interfacing made the mines seem better than getting to lay there while other slaves worked his plating into a mirror shine.

Megatron glanced into the mirror when he was finished. He was Lord of the Decepticons, tyrant of the galaxy, and rightful ruler of Cybertron. He would ignore the heat of shame that kept trying to work its way into his face, and look Prime right in his optics. He was not going to bow to these Autobots. Not even their leader. He had his pride after all. They would never see him less than perfect again.

Megatron strode out to the main room with all the easy grace and confidence he was known for. Prime turned from the energon dispenser, two cubes in his hands, and blinked.

“Nice shine,” he said, gaze sweeping warmth over Megatron’s traitorous body.

Smirking, Megatron stepped forward, and snatched one of the cubes. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a worse pick up line.”

Prime’s optic ridge popped up, but he said nothing as Megatron sipped at his energon, and perused the book files. When he turned back, Prime was lounging in one chair, and already reading. Megatron picked a file at random, and joined Prime, sprawling into the opposite chair, and slinging one leg over the arm.

As Megatron read the dry, inaccurate history, he was pleased to note the lack of tension in his systems. At least it seemed the hand-given overload was enough. For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Nothing Just Happened by LB82](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7263271)


	5. Part Four

Megatron sprawled in the chair opposite Prime’s desk as the Autobot worked. Red Alert and Prowl had thrown fits, he knew, but Prime had argued that it was needlessly cruel to leave a mech that _had_ to obey him, locked up in his rooms all the time. They hadn’t looked like they particularly cared how cruel it was, but after witnessing Prime order him to not attempt to learn anything about private Autobot business, and to immediately purge anything that he accidentally discovered, they backed off.

Megatron had actually balked at going. He didn’t like the idea of wiping memories, regardless of what they were. There were a good many he would doubtlessly be better off without, but they did shape him, so he wouldn’t delete them. Prime assured him he would use caution to avoid the issue as much as possible. Megatron was irritated he’d let the reaction show.

Now, however, nearly a week later, things were going well enough. He wasn’t actually in Prime’s office very much at all. Usually less than an hour after his morning scans from Ratchet. And he’d only been forced to accept one more overload. That was likely to end though by morning. Ratchet had once again commented on the strain on his systems. As if Megatron was unaware of it.

“If you’re bored we could go for a walk. You’re fidgeting.”

Megatron cast a glare at Prime. “I’m not some pet to be walked.” That traitorous voice whispered he was whatever his master told him he was, and nothing else.

“Tonight then?”

“Tonight what?” Megatron snapped.

Prime’s optics dropped back to the datapad he was working on. “You know what,” he muttered. “You lose patience faster when you begin to need it.”

Megatron stood abruptly. “Yes, a walk. Before I disobey you, and break something.”

“Can you do that?” Prime asked, setting aside the datapad, and rising.

“No,” Megatron snarled. _But I want to!_ he thought, and ignored the buzz of discomfort in his circuits. He was getting quite sick of Prime’s calm composure. He never reacted with more than a tired sigh, if even that!

Prime waved Megatron out ahead of him, and locked the door behind them. Megatron fumed along beside him. These occasional walks wound through the Ark by the less used corridors, to avoid either of them being harassed by curious mechs. None of them were restricted, and even if they were, Megatron would have forgotten it.

“Do you-“ Prime began, only to be cut off by the lights dimming, and emergency beacons flashing.

Prowl’s voice rang out above the alarms. “All hands report. Imminent Decepticon attack in-“

An explosion rocked the base, and Megatron didn’t have time to snicker as Prime grabbed him by the arm, and began running. Obedience was implicit in such an act, or he would have tried to defy Prime. Or at least stall him.

“You can’t bring him in here!” Red Alert shouted the moment they entered the Command Center. “He can’t be here! He’s… he’s… He probably _called_ them here!”

“Energy cuffs, Prowl?” Prime asked completely ignoring his Security Director. Prowl tossed the cuffs, and rushed out the door. Prime snapped one cuff around Megatron’s wrist, and towed him to the console, locking the other around an exposed pipe. “You will not attempt to escape. You will wait right here until I return. You will obey Red Alert unless his order contradicts one I have already issued. Understand?”

“Yes, Prime,” Megatron sneered.

Prime was gone in the next instant, leaving a still sputtering Red Alert in his wake. Only a few moments after Prime appeared in battle, Megatron felt the pressure associated with Soundwave’s mental intrusion. Megatron’s comm system had been disabled, and he had been ordered not to attempt to contact anyone without Prime’s explicit permission.

However, Soundwave was contacting him.

 _Lord Megatron_ , Soundwave said.

_Soundwave. It took you long enough, but there is a… complication._

_Apologies. Can you escape?_

Megatron continued to watch the monitors. Soundwave was not visible, but every other Decepticon was. The battle was raging rather fiercely. _If they fought like this all the time, we would have won by now. And no I can’t escape._

He was distracted from Soundwave by Starscream. Megatron knew that formation. That set up. And it was aimed at Prime.

If Starscream killed Prime...

Megatron turned to Red Alert. “Warn Prime about Starscream.”

“I hardly need you telling me how to do my job!” Red Alert snapped.

Megatron growled, and leaned as close as he could, using every bit of his size and sheer presence to intimidate the little fool. “Do you want Prime dead? Tell him Starscream is setting up an attack on him!”

“It doesn’t look li-“

“Now!” Megatron roared. Red Alert jumped, armor rattling, and pushed a button on the console. “Prime!” Megatron snapped, not waiting for Red Alert to find his voice. Prime stiffened. “Shoot down Starscream before he offlines you! I don’t want that traitorous fool to inherit me!”

Several Autobots targeted Starscream, and he and his trine scattered. Thundercracker was struck, and nearly crashed before managing to transform and land.

Megatron focused back on Soundwave. _Get out there and ruin things enough for Starscream to call a retreat._

_My Lord-_

_Now!_

_Yes, Lord Megatron,_ Soundwave said, and obeyed. It took nearly a breem more, but with a frustrated shriek, Starscream called the retreat.

Megatron scoffed at Prime’s sincere, “Thank you,” when he finally came for Megatron. Later, in Prime’s quarters, he was fairly certain Prime was trying to make his overload as good as he was able in appreciation. It was annoying because Megatron certainly didn’t want Prime functioning. He just wanted to be owned by Starscream even less. It was also humiliating. He was being _rewarded_ with an overload. Like some pet to be trained!

Megatron hated it all the more as Prime managed to get a genuine moan out of him this time.

He consoled himself with the possible reason as to why Prime was so good with his hand.


	6. Part Five

Megatron had worn out every curse, in every language he knew by the time Prime came for him. Red Alert was on the verge of a processor crash if his muttering and mumbling was any clue, and only adding to Megatron’s foul mood.

The past two weeks had been eventful. Starscream was running energy raids every few days. A number were a success, much to Megatron’s dismay, but his troops did need fuel whether he was there or not. That wasn’t really the source of Megatron’s frayed temper, but it was far easier to focus on his blasted Second in Command than the heat playing havoc with his systems.

Prime had been injured, and for a moment before the smoke cleared, Megatron had been worried. He had no more wish to be owned by Motormaster than Starscream. Prime was dinged, but it was Motormaster being hauled away by his gestalt mates as Starscream called the retreat. And Megatron’s systems had surged while watching Prime return fire for the parting shot Wildrider nearly hit him with.

This was all too familiar. Megatron could remember how the shows of power and dominance his old master had put on had affected him. It was part of the coding. Megatron had hated it then, and he hated it now.

But before he had never had an escalating need for the overloads.

Less than a full day, and Megatron was in need of what would be his third overload. It had begun as three days, now he could barely resist for a mere twelve hours.

Prime unlocked the door, and Megatron entered the room without meeting his optics.

“It’s getting worse,” Prime said, voice low in that way it always was when this subject came up.

Megatron narrowed his optics in a furious glare, but said nothing. He noticed a slight tremor in his hand when Prime handed him his evening energon, and would have crushed the cube if not for his orders not to break anything.

“You’re shaking.”

Megatron growled, and consumed his energon in one long pull.

Prime sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Megatron was getting particularly tired of that. “It seems impractical for a slave to need so much attention from their master. What are we doing wrong?” he muttered, and turned away to pace a bit. Megatron grit his teeth, and managed to resist answering directly. The question sounded rhetorical, and he held that thought at the forefront of his mind as the punishing discomfort scraped his already raw circuits.

Prime sighed again. “May as well get on the berth. You need it, there’s no point in letting you suffer.”

Megatron resisted until he risked overheating, then obeyed. He knew what he really needed, but he hated it. It was a pain he had never quite managed to defeat, and his first master had taken particular delight in making sure he was as rough as possible with him. Prime was large and strong, no sense denying that. If he was proportionate, Megatron’s screams were going to shake the Ark tonight.

Prime watched him with an optic ridge arched. “Tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

Lying on the berth, Megatron ground out, “A slave submits to his master’s pleasure.”

“Submits?” Prime stared at him for a moment in silence, then said, “Open.” He sat on the edge of the berth, hand hesitating a moment in a way it had not since the first time.

One of Prime’s fingertips slid over Megatron’s valve. Disgusted to the point of his tank rolling dangerously, Megatron stifled a gasp at the unwanted pleasure of that light touch. It had been a _very_ long time since it had been touched. He didn’t like touching his valve himself, and had never allowed a lover to go anywhere near it. He was shaking harder now though, and could feel as Prime’s finger moved easier through the lubricant seeping out.

“You need a valve overload?” 

Megatron grit his teeth, growling and repeating, “A slave submits to his _master’s_ pleasure.”

Prime nodded, and his finger pressed a little more firmly, the tip entering Megatron’s valve, moving in and out. “Try to relax. I’ll make this good for you.”

“Slaggit, Prime! It’s supposed to be good for _you_! Fragging idiot Autobot!”

Prime’s optic ridges shot up, and Megatron continued to snarl invectives. Prime’s quiet, “Oh,” made Megatron roll his optics. He stared at the ceiling, and fell silent as Prime’s fingers continued to move within him, teasing sensor nodes Megatron hadn’t even remembered he had.

Prime carried on so long, Megatron began to wonder if he was just going to overload him this way. It would buy him a little time perhaps, but no longer than the handjobs to his spike had. Eventually they would be right back here, and he would have to let Prime spike him.

He gasped, barely restraining a sound of protest as Prime’s hand drew away. The click of his panel opening left Megatron fighting old fear again. Hatred rose, as did an accompanying fury as he spread his legs wider to accommodate Prime. As Prime paused over him, Megatron resisted the urge to beg for it as he had been made to before. If Prime wanted that, he’d slagging well have to order it.

“Are you sure you want this?”

Megatron growled low in his chest. It physically hurt to fight the compulsion to answer, but he _would not_ say yes. Instead he snarled out, “Need it.” That wasn’t much better, but he’d be damned if he would admit to wanting Optimus Prime’s spike in his valve!

He was braced for the pain, jaw clenched, optics turned away as he brought all his control to bear. There was some discomfort, but it was not pain. Prime was entering him slowly, a breath hissing out, and sounding suspiciously like, “Primus!” Megatron blinked, and let his body relax. Prime sank the rest of the way in with a gasp, tucking his face into Megatron’s neck.

There was the soft whirr of gears, then a mouth on Megatron’s neck. Prime’s hips hitched back and pressed forward, his tongue teasing Megatron’s main energon line. He was shocked into a pleasured moan as Prime continued to kiss and suck all along his neck.

Angry and embarrassed at his reaction, Megatron wrestled his control back despite Prime’s hands managing to touch every sensitive spot on his body, his mouth still hot on Megatron’s neck. He growled, “The slave is supposed to please the master. What the frag are you doing?”

A soft purr rumbled out of Prime. “And do you know what pleases me?”

“No!” Megatron snapped, and cursed as he shivered in reaction to the slow slide of Prime’s spike as he pushed back in.

“I said I would make this good for you.”

Prime rolled his hips, rocking against Megatron rather than thrusting, and Megatron swore again. “Soft-sparked, do-gooder, _Autobot_!” Prime, damn his composure, continued to roll and thrust in that languid pace he had chosen to torture Megatron with.

What was worse was how good it felt. Megatron knew that interfacing didn’t hurt all valves, but until now he was fairly sure it would always hurt his. Shame for his fear cooled his arousal, but not for long. Prime’s hand wandered down and behind Megatron’s knee, lifting his leg out just a little, fingers dipping in to toy with the wires there. It all coalesced, and before Megatron could brace himself for it, his overload was tearing through his body. He buried his face in Prime’s neck, gasping, valve clenching, hips bucking.

It was a moment before he realized Prime hadn’t stopped.

“Beautiful,” Prime murmured, nipping his way along Megatron’s jaw line. “Don’t hide from me,” he whispered when Megatron clutched his shoulders and did indeed try to hide.

Prime caught his hands, lacing their fingers together and pinning Megatron’s hands over his head. He was surprised by this new aggression, and braced again for pain as Prime’s pace picked up.

“Beautiful,” Prime whispered again, then his mouth was on Megatron’s, tongue demanding entry, and Megatron found himself returning it, moaning in time to the plunging thrusts of Prime’s spike.

He wrenched his mouth away, humiliation burning, but doing nothing to stop him from matching Prime’s now driving rhythm.

“Don’t hide from me,” Prime whispered. “Please, don’t hide.”

It was an order no matter how Prime might mean it, and Megatron had no choice but to stop burrowing his face into his arm. He couldn’t seem to stop his moans or gasps either, only barely managing to restrain himself from begging. Even then _Please, please, please!_ was a litany within his mind. He wrapped his legs around Prime’s, arching, cries getting louder as his overload began to creep across his circuits.

It struck in a wave of ecstasy that made him shout, head thrashing from side to side, before his back bowed right off the berth. Prime burrowed in, and _bit_ Megatron’s neck, purring out a moan so low, so _satisfied_ , Megatron whimpered in reaction. Aftershocks ricocheted from his valve out, making him gasp and shiver.

Prime all but collapsed on top of him, cooling vents working hard, then gently withdrew and flopped to the side, panting.

Megatron’s mind reeled. He could hear his own labored breathing, and the shame rose again. His face heated in humiliation. He’d reacted to Prime spiking him like a well-programmed pleasure drone!

There was something else though, and he wasn’t sure if it was worse or not. His old master would make him beg for every agonizing overload before telling him to do it. Prime had sent him over twice - Hard - by the act of interfacing alone. There was something about being forced, being ordered to beg for the overload, then being ordered to do so, that seemed like… less of a betrayal of his self, than finding true pleasure in his master’s touch.

His tanks roiled, and only the determination to not make any larger a fool of himself, kept Megatron from purging his tanks.

Slagging soft-sparked, idiot of an Autobot! He couldn’t even properly take pleasure in his worst enemy’s enslavement! No! He had to try to be _noble_! Kind! The fragging aft-headed moron!

Prime sighed, this time in what could only be contentment, stretched, then rolled off the berth. A gentle touch brushed over Megatron’s arm. “I’m going to clean up.”

Megatron watched him walk into the washracks without comment. He was too disgustedly sated to even drudge up a suitable glower.


	7. Part Six

The wall comm chimed and Megatron looked up from the book file to stare at it in curiosity. It chimed again and he rose, pressing the connection button.

“Megatron,” Prime said, “have you been in contact with any of the Decepticons?”

Megatron paused, focusing on the wording, fighting back against the urge to say more than he wanted to tell. “I have contacted no one as ordered, Prime.”

“Just checking. Would you mind meeting me at the front entrance? We have a guest.”

In the background, Megatron could hear a cacophony of voices, all raised and panicked. “Am I walking alone?” he finally asked.

“If you can find the way.”

Megatron snorted. “Of course I can.”

“Then I shall meet you there. Prime out.”

The comm was disconnected before Megatron could ask just how the frag he was going to get out of Prime’s locked quarters. Figuring he could hack the lock since meeting his master was his current order, he walked to the door. It slid open as it sensed him. Megatron stopped for a moment, surprised and confused.

He could have left the room any time he wanted?

He snorted and walked out. Of course he couldn’t have left before, he had been ordered to stay in the room. Obedient little pet that he was.

As he left the Officers’ quarters area of the Ark, the halls became busier. Autobots were scurrying around, and seemed to flow away from Megatron but in the direction he was heading. He received looks of fright and shock when they realized he was alone.

That was nice, and Megatron smiled at them just to make them stumble and run away.

Mood greatly improved by the time he reached the entrance, Megatron walked directly to Prime without acknowledging anyone else. “Your guest,” Prime said, waving his hand out beyond the shade of the entrance.

Megaton followed the gesture, and felt an optic ridge pop up at the sight of Laserbeak standing out in the middle of the road that led in. He was shifting, dancing from foot to foot, and squawking quietly in distress. Or fear. Probably fear. Laserbeak wasn’t really his bravest warrior. Of course, why in the name of the Unmaker would Soundwave send Laserbeak here fully exposed?

“Shall we?” Prime said, and made to move forward.

“Sir, I really must object!” Red Alert said. A chorus of agreements sprung up behind Megatron and Prime.

“Yeah!” someone called out. “Let’s get him!”

Prime turned. “Stay back unless an attack occurs,” he ordered, and Megatron was impressed to hear the hard edge to Prime’s voice. Finally making them obey.

As soon as Megatron was clear of the Ark, Laserbeak lifted off, hovering until Megatron held out his arm for him to land on. Laserbeak watched Prime warily, low chirps emitted as he hunkered closer to Megatron’s body.

“So long as you don’t try anything, Laserbeak, no harm will come to you,” Prime said.

“Play the message,” Megatron ordered. Laserbeak hesitated, head ducking down, and chirping pathetically again.

“Play the message, Laserbeak,” Prime commanded, sounding as if he was just barely holding back one of those damn sighs.

With one more chirp, Laserbeak obeyed, a miniature holographic image of Soundwave appearing, his voice playing at a low volume that would keep any of the Autobots from hearing the message. “ _Situation discovered. Suggested course of action: Cooperation to prevent Starscream from taking complete command of the Decepticons. Offer: Two decacycles ceasefire and suspension of raids once Megatron returned to full capacity and Decepticon Command._ ”

“Would you honor that?” Prime asked.

Megatron nodded. “Get me back to normal, and I’ll give you three. Share some of your resources so a raid isn’t necessary, and I’ll give you four.” He cycled his respiration carefully, fighting the rather strong buzz of discomfort. Slaves don’t think about a life without their masters. “Continue, Laserbeak.”

“ _I will continue to research whenever possible. Decepticons unaware of situation. Believe Megatron is a prisoner. Laserbeak shall relay your decision._ ”

“Why is Soundwave your Third in Command? He’s so much more reasonable than Starscream.”

Megatron snorted in amusement. “Soundwave would always be a target if he outranked Starscream. This way we can both keep our optics on him.”

Prime nodded in acceptance of the answer, no doubt completely mystified by Decepticon politics, and focused on Laserbeak. “Inform Soundwave I accept, and already have my own medical and science staff working on the issue as well. I’d like to arrange communications. Something that perhaps won’t have every Autobot on the base charging their blasters.”

“Prime!” Megatron and Prime both turned to see Prowl hurrying toward them. “Teletraan just picked up Decepticon activity.” He was eying Laserbeak with suspicion etched upon his face.

“Where?

“Texas. An Oil refinery.”

Prime glanced between Laserbeak and Prowl. “Soundwave is using that as a distraction to allow Laserbeak to come here.”

“If Starscream notices, this could end badly. I know that little fool very well. If he learns of my status, he’ll stop at nothing to gain control over me,” Megatron growled.

Prime nodded but it was Prowl that spoke. “We could give Laserbeak something to return with that he could show, keeping your conversation private.” Prime was still nodding, but Megatron arched an optic ridge and waited. “I suggest we chain Megatron in the brig, perhaps add a few cosmetic blemishes-“

“An excuse to pound me? I’m surprised and rather impressed, Autobot.”

Prowl managed to look right down his nose at Megatron despite being quite a bit shorter. “Nonsense. I meant smear oil, maybe drip some half purified energon through your seams. You hardly look like a prisoner that’s been in our brig for a month.”

“That is a good idea. Red Alert will fritz though when he hears we’re going to let Laserbeak into our base on purpose,” Prime said.

Prowl dipped his chin in a nod. “I’ll begin setting it up, and have Ratchet on standby to deal with Red Alert.”

Megatron snickered. “And why is poor glitchy Red your Security Director?”

“He’s good at his job,” Prime answered. “A little too good at times, but there is no one more competent or creative when it comes to protecting the Autobots. He’s just… a little high strung at times.”

Megatron grinned. High strung was an understatement given all he had witnessed.

It took little time for a plan to be organized and executed. Megatron sat on a berth, optics dim, and forced himself to slump a little in the chains binding him to the cell wall. He looked up, brightening his optics slightly as Laserbeak squawked. The Autobots chosen to play his ‘guards’ began shouting and shooting. Then Laserbeak was flying fast, and the Autobots were chasing him.

It was all quite melodramatic, and Megatron began chuckling as Prime stepped out of a different cell. “Enjoying yourself?” Prime asked, removing first one set of chains, then the other.

“Oddly, yes.”

Prime laughed a little, and removed the final cuff from Megatron’s ankle. “Now that that’s dealt with we better put in an appearance in Texas. Can you find my quarters from here?”

“Yes, Prime,” he sighed in irritation, then cursed. Unicron take him! Now Megatron was picking up Prime’s damn idiosyncrasies!

Prime seemed not to notice, leading Megatron from the brig. “Good. Go there, feel free to clean up, and entertain yourself however you do. I’ll stop by when we return.”

“Yes, Prime.”

“Megatron?” He stopped turning back to look at Prime. “We really are trying to free you.”

He rolled his optics, and turned away, muttering about soft-sparked idiots. Not to mention _trying_ didn’t mean slag when Prime came back to his rooms in the evening and Megatron had to submit to him again.


	8. Part Seven

Over the next few weeks, Megatron’s daily life began to develop a routine. He would wake. Snark at Prime. Refuel. Snark at Prime. Then very often get deposited in the medbay, where he would snark at Ratchet, who snarked right back. Megatron would never admit to how much he enjoyed that, and denied the thought that having someone spar verbally with him was probably part of why he kept Starscream around.

There was talk from Perceptor, mostly involving words that even Megatron had a difficult time understanding, about the slave coding having been identified and tagged. Now they just needed a way to either nullify it, or overwrite it without ruining any of his other programming. It was nothing concrete yet, but Megatron couldn’t stop himself from hoping they would work it out. Or even better. That Soundwave would.

When the medic was done with him, Prime would turn up, claiming to have come to enjoy these working breaks, and the chance to get outside in the sunlight a bit. After that it was often back to Prime’s quarters where Megatron would be left to entertain himself until the evening.

Evening brought Prime’s return, where they would refuel, Megatron would snark some more, Prime would deflect it with casual calm, and then they would recharge. They had discovered, purely by accident, that Prime’s proximity during recharge balanced Megatron’s systems, and for almost two weeks, Megatron only needed an overload every three days. More than three days in fact. The last week and a half it had been escalating again, and they were down to two days, but Megatron was determined not to give in to that final, awful submission.

He hid his shorter temper. He recharged whenever he could. He reminded himself that Prime did not actually _want_ him in such a manner. Prime didn’t want him at all! He ignored how they would wake tangled around each other. He ignored the whispers from the coding. He even went so far as to overload himself, by valve, to see if that would help. It hadn’t. So he dealt with the waking fantasies and the recharge dreams that left the inside of his panel stained in lubricant, and focused on the few pleasurable things he could.

And those were very few indeed.

Being Prime’s slave was tediously _dull_. He almost wished Prime would order him around, give him tasks to do. Almost. Instead he read. He had already finished one shelf, and had moved on to the next.

Another thing Megatron enjoyed was thwarting Starscream at every turn. In accordance with the deal with Soundwave, Megatron was now left in the Command Center with Red Alert to assist in anyway he thought he could. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but Megatron couldn’t remember a time he had had more fun. Thwarting Starscream and, he thought, trying to glitch Red Alert by randomly offering the little Autobot easy, nearly gentle smiles.

Megatron was in the middle of one such smile, when he caught a flash of silver and red on the veiwscreen. Prime had led his merry band of morons off to take on Starscream’s latest strike on a power plant. Prowl’s voice sounded over the comm system, cool and collected, and ordering the wrong attack.

“No, you fools!” Megatron snapped. “Look at the formation, see how Starscream is leading them by more space than usual? He’s going to cut out and roll while Thundercracker and Skywarp run strafing lines on you. Starscream’s going to break left, and attack those flesh creatures with the tanks.”

Prowl passed along new orders to the Autobots dealing with the seekers, and Megatron found his optics caught and held by Prime. A small tremor ran through his frame as he remembered Prime’s hands on his body, Prime’s mouth on his. Heat flooded Megatron’s circuits, his valve tingling in anticipation. He only just kept his cooling vents from starting when Prime lifted and threw Motormaster aside.

That mech had a death wish to keep throwing himself at Prime like that. He had the size and nearly the strength, but no where near the battle experience needed to grapple with Prime.

That was the wrong term to use. Megatron’s imagination kicked up a visual of him and Prime rolling over the berth, grappling, then Prime would win, pinning Megatron’s arms over his head, sinking his spike deep-

Starscream’s shriek of rage snapped Megatron back from his fantasy, and he watched as the Decepticons retreated.

When he returned, Prime was damn close to giddy as far as Megatron could tell. He happily reported that there had been only a few injuries to either side, and none of those seemed severe. No one else seemed to notice how keyed up Prime was, but Megatron did. Luckily Prime was so distracted, he didn’t notice how Megatron trembled, and fought his arousal and need.

He was shocked into silence when Prime’s door closed behind them, and Prime was right there, his hand on Megatron’s arm.

“Tonight, right?” Prime brushed past, drawing a cube of energon and offering it to Megatron. He shook his head, and watched as Prime knocked it back in a single gulp. Then he was right there beside Megatron again, optics bright, hands on Megatron. “You would need it tonight, right?”

Megatron nodded, not daring to speak as he struggled to regain control over himself.

“Do we have to wait?” Prime’s words were a shock, and heat swelled through Megatron. “Can we do it now instead of waiting?”

He was walking Megatron back towards the berth even as he spoke, and to his great shame, Megatron just wasn’t able to resist. Especially not after Prime’s mouth closed over his.

Prime’s hands found every spot on Megatron’s body that made him arch and gasp. He nibbled and kissed his way from one side of Megatron’s neck to the other, then pinned Megatron’s hands above his head. Prime only used one hand, a hold easily broken, but Megatron couldn’t think past how _good_ it all felt, let alone find the will to pull his hands free.

Prime’s free hand brushed Megatron’s panel and it retracted spontaneously. In the next instant Prime’s spike was pushing in, stretching him, filling him, driving him beyond humiliation and shame. Overload came fast and hard, Prime gasping by Megatron’s audial, but not stopping. Megatron’s hands opened and closed uselessly as Prime drove into him. Another overload left Megatron’s mind spinning. Only a few short moments later, his third overload crashed over him, leaving Megatron crying out in sharp, loud, repetitious sobs. Prime growled, and bit at his armor, his neck, his jaw line, then purred out that moan that spoke better than any words how perfect his pleasure was.

Megatron gasped for air, only maintaining consciousness through sheer determination. Prime brushed a light kiss over his lips, and gently pulled away. “I have a meeting with my officers in a few minutes. Are you alright?” Not trusting his voice, Megatron nodded. With a final nuzzle, Prime rose from the berth, and disappeared into the washrack. Megatron stared at the ceiling, the passion gone and leaving in its wake an icy sense of shame.

Was he alright? Physically? Yes, and that was the aspect of the question he had chosen to answer.

He rolled his head to the side as Prime left the washrack. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Then he was walking out of the room with a spring in his step.

Megatron’s tanks rolled, and he as glad he hadn’t accepted the offered energon. He didn’t think he’d have been able to stop the purge. It was always close, but this was so much worse this time.

Prime had actually used him for _his_ pleasure.

There was a sense of betrayal there with the usual humiliation. Which didn’t make sense. One must trust another before feeling betrayed by them.

And he’d been begging this time. He, Megatron, tyrant of the known universe, had been _begging, pleading_ with Optimus Prime for that last overload.

His tanks rolled again, and this time he couldn’t stop the purge. Megatron only just made it to the washrack. He stayed under the solvent for a long time, but it didn’t help.


	9. Part Eight

It was inevitable, and Megatron could honestly say he was surprised it took this long to get out.

All the Autobots in the Ark knew he was there, and knew he was Prime’s slave. Those facts would have been impossible to keep quiet. However, only Prime, Ironhide, the medic and scientists knew _exactly_ what that meant.

Until now.

Megatron had heard their voices before he got to the corner, but that didn’t bother him. He did not hide from these Autobots, and he did not pretend to be cowed by them either. He was under orders not to harm them, and really, he had fun fritzing Red Alert and bantering with Ratchet. Killing the little pests would probably end that, then he’d be even more bored.

Turning the corner, they pulled up short. Two minibots, the timid sharpshooter, and the red menace that liked to tackle Megatron’s seekers in midair.

Sideswipe hooked his arm around a pink-faced Bluestreak’s waist, and walked past with a disgusted sneer on his face. Gears grumbled something too low for Megatron to pick up, and followed. Megatron rolled his optics. As if they could be any more sickened by his interfacing Optimus Prime than Megatron already was himself.

Cliffjumper stood still as Megatron moved past him, puny little fists on his hips. Megatron smirked.

“You aren’t worthy to be with Prime!” 

No slave is worthy enough for their master, the coding whispered. Megatron bit back a grimace at the sudden thought, and let a dangerous smile curve his lips. This pathetic little moron was not going to add to his humiliation. “Jealous?” Megatron purred. The minibot growled, and Megatron noticed the other three had stopped as well. “Would you like me to describe it for you? You can fantasize later that it’s you under your precious Prime.”

Cliffjumper’s face was contorted with rage. Megatron didn’t bother holding back his amused grin, and leaned down, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial tone. “Would you like to know what he sounds like when he overloads? How do you imagine he is? Gentle? Dominating? Maybe you want to hear how he throws me to the berth and ravishes me until my vocalizer gives out from my screams?”

Cliffjumper looked ready to explode. Megatron crouched down. “Or maybe you just want simple dimensions? Would you like to know how big Prime’s spi-“

Megatron let himself fall back as Cliffjumper punched him in the face. He was laughing even as the minibot rained blow after blow all over him. Only one or two of the hits were actually anywhere near uncomfortable, and those were easily ignored.

Whatever Cliffjumper was snarling and screaming was incoherent with the exception of this or that foul word. By the time Ironhide, Prowl, and Prime appeared, Megatron was gasping with laughter, barely able to brush Prime off, and snickering that such a puny drone couldn’t hope to harm him.

It wasn’t until Prime had dragged him into his quarters by an elbow, snapped at him to stay there and out of trouble, that he felt anything other than delirious glee. It was the tone of command. The fact that Prime was angry, that had his systems in sudden upheaval. The coding was whispering all manner of stern reproach at him. A buzz that bordered on genuine pain left Megatron panting.

Traitorous whispers in his mind said he should be on his knees when Prime returned. Said he should show his master how sorry he was, while heat brushed his circuits under the pain.

Megatron clenched his fists, shaking his head as if he could throw the thoughts from his mind. He wasn’t sorry. He hadn’t started that fight, and he’d be damned to the smelters if he was going to tuck tail, and scurry away from some miniature Autobot! Or anyone!

And if Prime wanted him on his knees he could order him there!

The pain intensified, but Megatron forced it aside, and picked up his latest book file, doing his best to ignore the shaking.


	10. Part Nine

Megatron was still reading when Prime returned that afternoon. He pretended to continue reading, but was far too aware of Prime’s presence to concentrate. Pain slammed across his body, making his spark stutter. He only just bit back a gasp, and resisted the whispered demands that he get to his knees, crawl to his master, and beg forgiveness.

Prime slumped into his chair, and sighed. Megatron felt his optic twitch, and glanced up. “I’m going to figure out something I can do to you to rid you of that infernal mannerism,” he snapped.

“What?”

Megatron snorted, and focused his optics back on the datapad.

“You caused quite a stir today,” Prime said, voice calm. “Want to tell me your side of it?”

“You saw my side of it,” Megatron said, trying to keep his tone even as the coding switched from punishing him with pain, to tempting him with fantasies.

“I saw the results.”

Prime rose from the chair, grabbed Megatron’s shoulder, and pulled him forward. Megatron landed on his knees, staring up at Prime. Voice low and soft, Prime commanded him to open. Open his interface panel _and_ his spark chamber. Ordered him to apologize, beg for forgiveness as he teased the strong cables of Megatron’s neck.

Megatron closed his optics against the fantasy, then opened them again to glare over at Prime. “Your Autobot started it.”

“Given the fact you can’t lie to me, I’d like to hear what really happened.”

Snarling, Megatron held out his arm, popping open the medical panel in his wrist, and exposing the leads. “Why don’t you just look? Then there can be no doubt.”

“Hardline connections are rather invasive. I don’t-“

Megatron cut him off with a bitter laugh. “Oh, of course, because nothing since this occurred has been the least invasive.”

“I apologize for the details being discovered. By the time Wheeljack realized Bluestreak had been distracting him, Sideswipe had already hacked the files, and made good his escape. They are both sitting in the brig. As is Cliffjumper.” Prime slouched in his chair, the weariness obvious. Images of crawling over, teasing Prime’s panel open, lowering his mouth over-

Megatron snorted in disgust. “And what is my punishment to be?”

“Bluestreak said Cliffjumper goaded you. That you said some pretty colorful things back, but that it was Cliffjumper to start the verbal match, and Cliffjumper to throw the first punch.”

“You forbade me harm any Autobot. I did not disobey.” The words were ground out. He felt like a sparkling taken to task, and the coding kept urging him to beg forgiveness, apologize, kneel.

“Couldn’t you have just kept walking?” Prime asked, then dropped his face into his hand. “No, of course you couldn’t.”

Megatron growled, “I don’t back down from those trying to insult me.”

“Of course not.” Prime made it sound like an insult. “Is fighting all you know? Don’t you ever attempt diplomacy first?”

“I have no use for Autobot diplomacy,” Megatron sneered.

“I suppose a dictatorship is better? That is what your old recruitment signs said. Peace through tyranny?” Prime shook his head. “I’m not sure that even makes sense.”

“It’s honest,” Megatron shot back. “Especially given your little motto of Freedom being the right of all sentient beings. All beings except Decepticons, but no one ever seems to say that last part out loud.”

“I want you free, Megatron, but the universe is not the gladiatorial rings, and it isn’t there for you to dominate or ruin at your whim.”

Megatron’s optics narrowed to furious slits. “You know absolutely nothing about the Pits.” The Gladiator Pits were a large part of what drove Megatron to lead a revolution in the first place. “Autobots ran those rings. Autobots owned the slaves that fought in them. And Autobots are the ones that profited from ordering unwilling slaves to kill each other. Autobots hoarded energon while the lower classes starved. While their own people starved!” Megatron leaned forward, optics hard on Prime’s. “It was the Autobots that invented the slave code, and brought sparklings online already enslaved.”

Prime stared back for a moment. “And yet now that all of that has been destroyed, here we are on a completely different planet, while Cybertron dies, and I spend my days trying to keep you from killing Earth, and enslaving the humans.”

Megatron sat back, forcing himself to calm. “I am doing everything I can. My troops are on strict rations, _I_ share that restriction with them, while all extra energon goes to Cybertron. What have you done for your home world, Prime? And as to the fleshlings, they were killing this planet long before we were onlined again. If they’re so set on destroying Earth, then why shouldn’t we take the resources and save our own world with them?”

“It is their planet. We have no right to steal from them, and you have no right to try to wipe them out or order them to serve you.”

“Humans enslave each other all the time, and my plots that included enslaved workers always involved an allied _human_. And when have you ever heard me order my Decepticons to attack the humans directly? If I wanted to wipe them from the Earth, I would. It wouldn’t be that difficult. A simple order to my seekers to carpet bomb the cities, and humanity would be crushed. It’s pointless to waste resources in such a meaningless attack. However, I can hardly expect my troops not to return fire when attacked. And if the fragile creatures are too foolish to run when they see us coming, then they deserve to be casualties.”

“That is callous.”

“That is honest,” Megatron rejoined, tone even and confident. “You may not like this little fact, but most people, regardless of species, are idiots. They require guidance and strong leadership. They need control or they end up tearing themselves apart.”

“The only thing tearing Cybertron and Earth apart is our war,” Prime said, his tone edging toward angry.

“Nonsense. There was peace before my revolution on Cybertron. The Senate and wealthy did as they pleased, when they pleased, to whomever they pleased. _They_ tore Cybertron apart. No one policed their behavior, and no one stopped their abuse.” Megatron smiled. “Until I came along.”

“I’m only the latest Prime. There were others before me-”

“Oh, yes, there were. I remember Sentinel Prime very well. Pompous, arrogant, entitled.” Megatron smiled. “I’d say his death was the best thing to ever happen to Cybertron, but most of the Senate was deactivated that day too, and they were just as bad. Just as corrupt.”

Prime was frowning behind his facemask, Megatron could see it in his optics. “Mass execution is never a positive thing.”

Megatron shook his head. “You didn’t know them, and you’re only marginally better than they were. At least you’re willing to fight for your misguided beliefs.” He held up the datapad. “These _histories_ are so full of self-righteous propaganda and edited information on real history as to be works of fiction.” Megatron tossed the book file on the table between them in challenge. “I lived through most of those events, and I remember quite well how they actually occurred. At least your beliefs are excusable. You were raised to believe that slag.” Prime’s optics widened slightly, and Megatron pushed on. “Oh, yes, Prime. I remember when you arrived on the field. Powerful, yes. Definitely enthusiastic. So ready to kill or die for your ideals, but barely more than a sparkling. But think about it. Why would so many flock to my banner? The ruling class drove our world into rebellion and civil war. Peace through Tyranny. Absolutely. No more unchecked freedom for those with the power and wealth to get away with it!”

“Except for you!” Prime snapped.

“Of course, except for me! But I have no intention of sitting on my aft having slaves polish my armor, and sipping high grade while the masses starve into stasis lock. I’ve earned my position through endless vorn of hard work and dedication. I will lead Cybertron to true glory and peace because I have carved everything I have with my own hands, and am not afraid to continue to do so.

“Even you can’t claim that. You are Prime because the few remaining Alphas managed to plug the Matrix into your spark, and gave you your authority and power. And even so, you are nothing but a wartime leader. What do you even know about ruling in peace? You can’t even get your own soldiers to obey you,” Megatron continued. Prime’s optics were narrow and bright, and though it hurt, genuinely hurt, he pushed on. “It wasn’t just me that little fool was insulting. They weren’t just disgusted that _I_ was touching _you_. They were disgusted with you. And I hardly blame them.” Prime’s optics shot wide. “You preach about freedom, but you own a slave. You _use_ your slave.”

“I have been as fair as possible to you!” Prime said. “The only orders I’ve given have been for the protection of my people, and your own!”

“You’re a hypocrite,” Megatron said coolly. “And they know it.”

“They also know that we are trying to find a way to free you! Do you have any idea of the arguments I’ve had to deal with against simply offlining you! Both because it would do away with you, and also because it would be a mercy! Better than forcing you into a life of sex slave!”

“And yet here I function, and you take your pleasure of me.”

“You need that!”

“And you enjoy it, and they know it.”

“Enough,” Prime growled.

Megatron smiled, and pushed through the fire of agony in his circuits. “They know it, and they despise you for it. For not being their perfect, pristine, untouched and untouchable Prime.”

“Shut up.” The words were low, soft as Prime stood abruptly. Megatron smirked, forced to obey the command, and watched as Prime stormed out of the room.

Megatron slumped as soon as the door cycled shut, gasping as he let the pain he’d been fighting flow over and through him. The code was screaming at him. His systems were in complete flux. If Prime didn’t get over his snit, Megatron truly would be suffering a lack of his master’s attentions. He probably shouldn’t have baited Prime about that, but the debate had been fun. He’d always wanted a chance to point out the errors in Prime’s beliefs. In truth, Prime was an effective leader. He managed to face Megatron time and again, and kept his little ragtag band of civilians together and alive. If Megatron had an equal it was Optimus Prime.

No slave is equal to his master.

Megatron grit his teeth against the whispers, but they continued. Images of the distant past returned. Memories rose. His old master ordering him to his knees, making it as painful as he could. Invading his spark, stripping him bare. That voice whispered he deserved no better. Prime was a good master, better than he deserved, and he should fall on his face in gratitude for the pleasure and leniency given.

Megatron gave in for a moment. He slid to the floor, knelt, bent until his forehead touched the metal tiles. He would stay here until Prime returned. He repeated that over and over until the whispers calmed, then he slowly convinced himself a good slave would appear as pleasing to his master as possible, and rose.

The hot solvent helped ease the ache left in his joints and circuits, but the _need_ for Prime’s touch did not diminish.

Unfortunately, it had only been a day. Prime might not return.

Insolent slave. You deserve to suffer.

Megatron sank into the chair and forced himself into recharge.


	11. Part Ten

“Megatron.”

Megatron’s optics snapped open, and he was moving forward to kneel before fully awake. Prime’s hand on his shoulder stopped him, though Prime likely didn’t know what he was stopping.

“I’m sorry,” Prime said, crouching down. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” Megatron blinked few times, trying to shake off the wildly erotic dreams he had been having. “I also apologize for my earlier behavior. I would like to blame the stress of the situation, but nothing excuses my getting angry with you because I just didn’t like what you had to say.”

Prime rose, went to the energon dispenser, and drew two cubes. “You do have a number of valid points, even if I disagree with your,” he frowned, and handed one cube to Megatron, “way of accomplishing your goals.”

Megatron stared for a moment, incredulous. Optimus Prime was apologizing?

“I’d like to see this through with as little damage to either of us as can be managed. I’d like for you to be free so we can discuss the future of our planet, and really do something about it.” Prime paused, looking at Megatron curiously. “Why aren’t you sneering at me for being soft-sparked and pathetic for apologizing?”

Megatron couldn’t help the smirk, and leaned back, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee. He sipped his energon, and kept his optics on Prime’s, laughing inwardly as his frown deepened.

Prime’s frown turned to a glower. “It’s not like you to play this sort of game.”

Megatron shrugged, optics dropping to Prime’s lips. There was a stray smear of energon. Nothing sloppy, just a drop, and he wanted to lick it off. His mind supplied the images of him standing, leaning in. It would be taking something of a liberty as a slave. It would be presumptuous, but Prime seemed to like kissing.

“Don’t you think we’ve had enough tension for one day?” Prime asked, almost pleading. “Would you please answer me?”

Megatron smiled. “I will now.”

“Because I resorted to begging?” Prime huffed, and dropped into his chair.

“No, because you told me to shut up before you left, and I was compelled to remain silent until given permission to speak again.”

Prime’s optics widened. “Primus! I hate this slave program!” Megatron snorted. “I know. I know, I’m sorry. It’s worse for you, I know that. I really do.” He inhaled to sigh, and stopped, optics shifting to Megatron.

Megatron laughed, and shook his head. “Well, you have to let it out now.”

Prime chuckled, and then finished his energon, reaching for Megatron’s empty cube. It was there, when both their hands were on the cube, that Prime paused. “You’re shaking.” He dispersed the cubes, and reached out to touch Megatron’s shoulder. The trembling was undeniable. “This is my fault. This is because I was angry, and now you’re fighting whatever the coding wants you to do to make me,” he grimaced, “forgive you.”

“Partly,” Megatron said, and fought the lurch of anticipation in his spark. Prime knew he needed it, and Prime was a good master, he wouldn’t deny Megatron this no matter how much he deserved punishment.

Megatron clenched his jaw. Slagging code! It was getting more insidious.

“It’s only been a day. Is it getting worse again?”

“Yes.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Prime muttered, standing, and holding his hand down to Megatron. He hesitated a moment on their way towards the berth. “Do you need,” he paused, and Megatron almost snickered as Prime’s pale face blushed to embarrassed pink. “Do you need to spike me?”

“A slave submits.”

“Rather cryptic no,” Prime said, but didn’t push the issue.

Megatron lay back, and closed his optics. Prime’s touch was pleasant enough if he could forget why he needed it.

“What if you touch me?” Prime whispered. “Would touching me help? I don’t know if I could control myself as long, but if it helps you?”

It wouldn’t in the long run, but it might help today. Megatron brought his hands up in answer, fingers tracing the edges of Prime’s armor. Prime shuddered as Megatron dipped a finger into a gap, and stroked the wires he found. “Sensitive,” he whispered without meaning to.

“I really don’t do this often. When I do, I don’t let them touch me much. I could hurt the mech I’m with if I lose control,” Prime said, another shudder coursing his frame.

“I’m rather durable,” Megatron said, a wry smile quirking his mouth. He let his hands drift around Prime’s body, touching, caressing, tweaking, and pinching, looking for and finding all the little spots that made him tremble and gasp.

“Primus,” Prime whispered, and bent down, his mouth covering Megatron’s.

The kiss quickly turned demanding and hungry. Megatron’s spark pulsed, and his interface heated. Prime moved over him, and Megatron spread his legs, arching his pelvis up instinctively. Prime was making little sounds in the back of his throat, hips rocking down against Megatron. His mouth moved in a smoldering trail down Megatron’s throat, and his hands seemed to be everywhere at once. Prime’s interface panel opened with a click, and Megatron retracted his as well. He arched up and moaned as Prime’s spike slid in, for once not expecting or bracing for pain.

“Durable?” Prime asked in a whisper, rocking back and forth in a few shallow thrusts. “I don’t want to hurt you, and that is an order. Don’t let me damage you.”

Megatron brought his knees up, and wrapped his legs over the backs of Prime’s. “Yes, Prime.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when Prime’s pace picked up. “And I want your pleasure in this,” he gasped. “I like my partners to enjoy it.” Then he was surging into Megatron hard and fast, little gasping cries punctuating every few thrusts.

Lust swept through Megatron, and he met every driving push of Prime’s hips, adding his own moans whenever a particularly sensitive node was touched. He quickly lost the sense to do anything with his hands but cling to Prime’s shoulders. The charge was building, he was being loud, neck arched back as Prime sucked and bit at his throat.

There was a click and Prime froze above him. Megatron gasped, he was so close, but as Prime leaned up, he pinned his hips to the berth, and Megatron couldn’t rock or arch enough for the contact he needed.

“Megaton,” Prime said, voice low. “Megatron!”

Megatron squirmed, arching his chest up, and trying to pull Prime back down against him. “Slaves are to be completely submissive to their masters,” he snarled, unable to keep the disgust from his voice. Prime didn’t move, just continued to stare down into Megatron’s open chest, his shocked face bathed in spark light. Megatron bucked hard, and managed to move them a little. “I need it,” he ground out, furious, humiliated by that need, but unable to fight it.

Prime stared a moment longer, then shook his head. “No,” he said, and closed Megatron’s chest plates.

Ice shot through Megatron, but Prime burrowed into his neck, biting and thrusting hard and fast. Megatron cried out, on the very edge, and Prime pushed in, held, and rolled his hips around, grinding into him.

Megatron shouted as overload struck. He thrashed, gasping, grasping, _reaching_ with all his being for it. But even in the midst of the overload, he knew something was wrong.

Prime lay atop him for a moment as Megatron calmed, but then instead of flopping in a strutless heap to the side, he rose and went to the washrack. Megatron watched, in confusion, feeling hollow. It was almost as empty as his self-overloads felt.

Prime walked out of the washrack, then out of his rooms entirely, not looking at Megatron at all.

That hollow feeling grew, as did the burning humiliation. He had thought having to bare his spark for use would be the worst thing he faced in Prime’s berth.

But Prime turning him down was even worse.

And his body was still throbbing. He ached. He had overloaded from his master so it shouldn’t still be so strong. Megatron sat up, braced for the rush of transfluid that always made him cringe, and felt… nothing.

Prime hadn’t overloaded.

Megatron felt his face heat in utter shame.

He had been so very wrong. This was worse than baring his spark and being refused.

Megatron shut his panel and lay back down, curling on his side. He hurt in a way he wasn’t familiar with. Perhaps this is what it felt like when one’s degradation was complete?

The whispers began and he didn’t even try to fight them. It was a long time later, hours, when the trembling subsided, and Megatron was finally able to force himself into recharge.

Prime still wasn’t back.


	12. Part Eleven

Megatron’s recharge was fitful, the whispers continuous, and he spent much of the night trying to find a comfortable position to lie in.

He was startled awake by Prime’s hand on his shoulder, and surprised to realize he had finally dropped off and stayed in recharge. “Ratchet needs to see you,” Prime said, voice dull and flat.

Megatron frowned, but rose and followed behind Prime, being as docile as he could in the hopes the buzz of discomfort would ease a little more. True he was no stranger to pain, he had a high tolerance of it in fact, but it was annoying. And this was meant to break even the very strong.

He hated to admit that it might work. He could hold out, maybe a way to disable it would be found before he gave in. He was no longer a confused youngling who knew nothing beyond slavery. He was powerful and far stronger than his younger self had ever been.

Straightening his shoulders a little, Megatron walked past Prime, and entered the medbay. He glanced back, but Prime was already gone. Perceptor and Ratchet had their heads together over a datapad, the little scientist jabbering in a fast excited voice.

Ratchet motioned Megatron to a berth without looking up.

A few more minutes passed before Megatron lost patience, and demanded, “Well? Why am I here?”

“Impatient aren’t we? Why, where are you going today?” Ratchet asked. He paced over to Megatron, and quickly plugged a datapad into Megatron’s medical port.

“I don’t like being ignored.” Ratchet snorted, and Megatron narrowed his gaze, following the medic through his systems. “What’s that one all excited about?” he asked tipping his head toward Perceptor.

Ratchet glared up at him, but Perceptor smiled brightly. “We’ve had quite the break though! We’ve discovered a way to over-write the slave code when it’s dormant!”

“That hardly helps me,” Megatron snarled.

“Well, no,” Perceptor said, his exuberance barely dimming, “but the next step is a program that will over-write the active slave code.”

Ratchet hummed the way Megatron had come to recognize meant he didn’t like what he was seeing. “Why are you running hot? Your systems are taxed. How often are you overloaded?”

Optic ridge arching, Megatron looked very deliberately at Perceptor.

“Bye, Perce,” Ratchet said.

“What? Oh… um... yes…” Perceptor stuttered. “I’ll just leave this for later then.” He put the datapad down, and scurried out of the medbay.

Ratchet hopped up on the table next to Megatron, and stared.

“Don’t go getting friendly on me now, medic.”

“Hardly,” Ratchet smirked, but before he could continue the alarms went off, and Prowl’s voice droned out an order for all hands to report.

”Slaggit! Let’s go.” Ratchet hopped down from the table, and tugged on Megatron’s arm. “But don’t think this gets you out of our little chat.”

Megatron was deposited in the Command Center with Red Alert, who was too busy punching buttons to even flick a paranoid glare at him. Megatron stepped a little closer, just enough to better watch what was happening on Teletraan’s screen. He would start his game of Fritz the Glitch after he had a handle on the situation.

Red Alert was fidgeting. Prime’s voice sounded through the comm system. “Wait here, Autobots. I’ll check it out.” As Prime crept forward, Red Alert began muttering, “No, no, no. You’re the leader! How many times do I have to tell you?”

Megatron smirked, and shook his head. Real leaders led from the front, not from safely behind the cannon fodder. He was about to say as much, when a deep _boom_ sent static across Teletraan’s screen, and sharp feedback through the comms.

Red Alert shouted, “No!” and ran out. Megatron could hear his tires squealing as he sped away. He stared after the little mech in confusion for a moment, then turned back to the screen. The dust and debris was clearing, and with a rather sad beep, Teletraan zoomed in on Prime.

Megatron watched as the bright red and deep blue began to fade away, quickly being replaced with grey. He gasped in shock, leaning against the console as his knees actually weakened. Alarms were blaring, the emergency lights flashing.

Megatron shook his head and reset his optics. “Who set the explosion?” he asked as that little icon appeared, but blinking yellow this time instead of red.

“Unknown,” Teletraan replied.

“Does Prime have a named successor?”

“Negative.”

Megatron stood in stunned silence for a moment as Autobot after Autobot flashed through his processors. They had at times debated Prime, but none would have made a suitable replacement, and none would have ever challenged Prime for leadership. He watched the yellow icon flash a few more times, then disappear. He stared, unable to see any of the Autobots, but hearing their voices, all shouting, crying out in anguish.

Megatron felt his systems settling, going back to normal.

Normal.

Dormant.

He dashed from the Command Center to the medbay. The datapad was still there, and he looked it over quickly. Megatron had learned quite a bit over the course of his life, but this was beyond his abilities. Deciding it was worth the risk, because no way would he be returning to his Decepticons with the chance that Starscream knew about the slave code, Megatron plugged it in.

He braced himself for whatever pain might come, and tapped ‘execute’. Instead of the expected pain, his HUD and the datapad showed a simple status bar. It blinked twice when the upload and install was finished, then shut down. Megatron disconnected, and stared at the datapad. That had been… remarkably easy.

He wondered if maybe it hadn’t really worked, but decided he could say it had if questioned, and have Soundwave look in private later to confirm. Right now he needed to get out of the Ark before the Autobots came back. His weapon systems were still offline, and he had no idea where Prime had his cannon hidden. It wouldn’t be the wisest choice to remain in enemy territory.

Megatron hurried to the entrance only to pull up short at the sight of all the Autobots.

Prime included.

Megatron walked out, and with nothing more than a small gesture from Prime’s hand, the Autobots filed past him, leaving him to face his former master alone. He could fight now. The thought sent no pain through his circuits. He could try to kill Prime if he wanted to. No whispers assaulted his processors.

“Go to my quarters. Get on the berth,” Prime ordered.

“No,” Megatron said with a grin. He walked right up to Prime, stopping less than an arm’s length away. “Quite the show.”

“It worked if you can tell me no.”

Megatron leaned closer, and tapped a finger on Prime’s mask in silent request. He was a little surprised when Prime retracted the mask. Megatron grazed his fingertips along Prime’s cheek. “Oh it’s tempting. It’s just nice not to _need_ it.”

“Tempting?” Prime’s mouth twisted, half smile, half grimace.

Megatron just smiled. “You set all this up after denying me last night?”

“Yes. Perceptor had already informed me they had found a way to destroy the dormant code. It took some planning and some debating, but we pulled together our little show for you. You owe Hound a sincere thank you, he was most disturbed to have to project images of me deactivated.”

Megatron grunted noncommittally, and kept his touch light on Prime’s face, thumb running over his bottom lip. “You realize the war is about to get difficult again, and it’s all your fault for freeing me?”

Prime leaned into the touch. “Does it have to? I disagree with some of your ideas, but we want the same thing. We can work something out.”

Megatron smirked at the hopeful tone. “There is still the energy crisis. If you are unwilling to do what is needed, then we will never reach an accord.”

Prime nodded, but still didn’t pull away from Megatron’s touch. “Actually, my science team told me long ago that using the same space bridge technology you and Shockwave did before, we can move Cybertron into orbit in this solar system.” He quickly held up a hand. “We would place it in an orbit that does not jeopardize Earth. Then we could still use the sun’s energy.”

“You are overly fond of these flesh creatures.”

Prime shrugged. “No conquering the universe, Megatron. Let’s just rebuild our planet and people. The Sun’s energy would allow that, though I understand it will take quite some time before Cybertron would be truly healed. It would be so much easier if we worked together on the restoration.”

Megatron nodded, leaning in slowly. Prime remained still. “They’re watching this, want to back away?” Instead Prime moved forward into the kiss. Megatron left his optics half open, watching the light blush appear on Prime’s face as his lips moved against Megatron’s. Megatron pulled back, smiling. “After I have my army in hand, I’m going to come back and spike you for a change.”

Blush deepening to a hot pink, Prime muttered, “Promises.”

Megatron threw back his head and laughed for a moment before sobering. He looked at Prime, really looked at him. “I wouldn’t have treated you as well. I wouldn’t have freed you.”

“I know.”

Rolling his optics, Megatron muttered, “Soft-sparked glitch. It’s a wonder you’ve managed to survive at all.” He leaned in for one last kiss, just because he figured he would get away with it, then stepped back to leave.

“Oh, and Megatron,” Prime said, halting him. “Go easy on Starscream. We would have been in trouble if not for you and Soundwave working to sabotage him.”

Megatron snorted, then gave Prime a wicked grin. “Imagine how bad it would have been if the little slagger worked with me instead of against me all the time.” 

“Exactly. And Skyfire tells me Starscream was once a scientist. We could use all the input we can get for our future.”

Sighing before he could stop himself, and glowering at the snicker from Prime, Megatron said, “You’ll make him insufferable.” He paused. “More so.” Megatron shook his head and engaged his antigrav. “I’ll be in touch Prime.”


	13. Epilogue

It had taken months to get everything just right, and bring Cybertron into orbit, then another month to establish the planet’s rotation, and get the ancient solar collectors limping along. New construction was underway, but what they had would do for now.

The humans had thrown fits. First over learning about the Autobot-Decepticon peace treaty. Why, Megatron couldn’t even begin to fathom. The little fools were no longer going to be attacked, and once Cybertron was stable, all mechs were leaving Earth. More ranting had come when they’d been informed that Cybertron was being brought into the solar system. Megatron had arched an optic ridge, given Prime a _look_ , and then promptly left the diplomacy to him.

It had been worth the trouble though. After all the arguing and whining from all sides, they were back on Cybertron.

Megatron stood on his balcony overlooking Iacon. The sun was setting, its deep orange glow burnishing the mass of ruins and clutter. There were clear signs of construction in the areas near the central tower. Most of the returned Earth forces were here, and they had been cleaning up, but much of it was still a mess.

Megatron turned as he heard the door cycle open, and went inside.

“Are you sure about this?” Prime asked. “I understand the concept of showing a united front, but this could be overkill.”

Megatron chuckled. “I do nothing by halves.”

“No kidding,” Prime muttered.

“We don’t _have_ to share quarters, Prime.” Megatron smirked as he stepped closer, and reached out, tracing his finger over the battlemask. “It just makes it more convenient.”

Prime’s face was already a pale pink as the mask retracted. “You’re back earlier than expected,” he said.

Megatron grinned at the deflection. “Shockwave is obedient. Unlike your Autobots.”

Prime stepped back, and walked over to the berth, rubbing his face as he lay down. “Tell me about it.”

“Aw… Did the Prime have a rough day ordering his troops around?”

“Shut up, Megatron.”

“Ah, but that doesn’t work anymore.”

Prime huffed a short laugh. “What will?”

Megatron leaned over Prime, and pressed their mouths together. The kiss deepened easily, and Megatron lay down, tugging a bit until Prime lay half sprawled across his chest.

Prime pulled back, optic ridge arching. “Submitting? I had expected our positions to be reversed this time.” He paused, a slight smirk curving his lips. “What do you want?”

Megatron chuckled. “Suspicious, aren’t you?” Prime raised an optic ridge. “Your spark,” Megatron smiled. Prime frowned, clearly hesitant, his blush returning, and Megatron laughed. “You’ve never merged sparks, have you?” At Prime’s offended glare, he laughed even harder. “Is that why you ran away that last night?” Megatron snicker helplessly. “I sent a virgin fleeing my presence! And I bet you don’t even know how much you dented my ego that night!”

Prime wasn’t nearly as amused. “I was raping you, Megatron! I justified it because you needed it, but I… couldn’t bring myself to force spark rape on you too. And you can laugh all you like, but I didn’t want my first experience with that to be unwilling.” Megatron was still grinning, and it widened as Prime sighed. “Yes, yes, I’m soft-sparked, pathet-“

Megatron pulled him down into a short kiss. “Oh, look it works on you too.”

“You really aren’t going to take this seriously, are you?”

“Believe me, Optimus, there is no one that can take it more seriously than me.” He slipped his fingers in between armor gaps, grinning up at Prime as he shuddered.

“Been a while,” Prime murmured.

“I think I can remember how,” Megatron said, tipping his head back so Prime would have better access to his neck. “And none of that holding back slag.”

“Yes, Megatron,” Prime replied deadpan, then bit down hard on a cable. Megatron growled, and set about finding all the spots he had discovered the last time they were together while Prime did the same to him, hands and mouth everywhere. Only it was so much better this time. He didn’t _have_ to do this.

Megatron’s panel clicked as it unlocked and retracted.

Prime leaned up, cooling vents humming, mouth parted as he panted. “Are you sure?”

Megatron rocked his hips against Prime’s, and smiled. “Want it.” He bucked harder when Prime hesitated. Then again, when a slow, teasing smile curled Prime’s lips. Megatron growled, then moaned as Prime slid his fingers into his valve, stroking and teasing.

Another click was followed by Prime sinking his spike slowly into Megatron. “Primus,” he whispered.

“Wrong,” Megatron said, and gripped Prime’s head, pulling him into a hard, open-mouth kiss.

Prime trembled, and his hips thrust forward a few times in quick succession. “Mmm. Megatron,” he gasped.

“Much better,” Megatron murmured. He nipped and sucked at Prime’s neck, stroked the hidden wires and circuits his fingers touched, and met Prime thrust for thrust.

Quiet little moans escaped Prime in the same rhythm with which they moved together. Megatron retracted his chest plates, wrapping his arms and legs around Prime to keep him from pulling away. Prime hesitated for a moment, staring down into Megatron’s spark.

“Do it because you want to,” Megatron said. “I’ll know otherwise, and I will be most insulted.”

“I want to,” Prime said, voice almost a purr. He rolled his hips around a few times more, that teasing smile back, then retracted his chest plates as well.

Megatron grinned back, and pulled Prime down. Prime shouted as their sparks connected, the energy flashing lightning through their bodies. Megatron gasped at the influx of pleasure and emotions. Lust and aching desire washed through him. Under that, nervousness and guilt. He pushed deeper, searching, until he found what he was looking for. Buried by the rising overload, pushed back by passion, but still strong, was a sense of respect. Deeper, there was… awe.

Prime whimpered. “Not fair. How are you doing that?”

Megatron pulled back, containing his surprise at some of the things he could see and feel. He brought Prime along, and let him see that the respect was mutual. A worthy opponent.

A worthy partner.

Megatron held tight as Prime writhed above him, watching, feeling, as he lost control over conscious thought. Prime’s hips surged in time with their rapidly pulsing sparks. Nearly mindless, lost in the sensations, Prime bucked hard and cried out. Megatron let go, energy racing through him, carrying him along with Prime into blinding overload.

Megatron blinked up at the ceiling, and started chuckling as he checked his chrono. They’d knocked each other offline.

Very nice.

Prime moaned as Megatron rolled them to their sides. “Impressive,” Megatron said.

Prime huffed a weak laugh, and burrowed in against him. “You don’t usually understate things so badly.”

Megatron chuckled, stroking one hand down Prime’s side. His smile faded. “I never meant for the dock workers to be killed that day.” Prime stiffened. “Honestly. I came to recruit, and confiscate the energon, not kill.” Prime remained silent and rigid in his arms. “I do, however, believe I’m done regretting that.”

Prime glared at him. “You ended my life that day! How can you say you don’t regret it?”

“No, I ended a little dock worker’s life. One who would likely have died as nothing more than a foot soldier in his first real battle. Instead, Orion died, and Optimus Prime was born.”

Prime stared for a moment in silence. “So what you’re really saying is that you’re glad I ended up me, because now I’m here with you.” He paused. “That’s a rather romantic sentiment.”

Megatron snorted. “Nonsense. It’s practical. We will rebuild Cybertron, and I have a very enthusiastic and accommodating berth mate as well.” He stretched, and groaned. “Though perhaps I should regret Orion dying as a virgin. Terrible waste.”

He laughed as Prime rolled over, pressed his back to Megatron’s side, and muttered, “Shut up, Megatron.”

“I didn’t think to look, but who was your first spike?”

“Shut up, Megatron.”

“Nevermind, I’ll look next time.” Megatron rolled to his side, grinning and enjoying being able to tease Prime without the old animosity. “You recharge,” he whispered, draping an arm over Prime’s waist. “I’ll finish stealing the rest of your virginity later.”

“Can’t steal it if I willingly give it.”

“You could pretend. Struggle a little.”

“Kinky. Recharging now.”

Megatron chuckled and snuggled in, then rolled his optics at his own thoughts. Lord High Protectors don’t snuggle. In fact Prime’s shouldn’t either. He’d have to remember that for next time.


	14. Bonus Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Summary:** Straight up sticky PWP. =D Enjoy!  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **‘Verse:** G1  
>  **Series:** Down a Notch… Or Eight  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Pairings:** Megatron/Optimus  
>  **Notes:** Because I woke up, and the muse informed me I must let Megatron deflower Prime’s valve.

Megatron woke sprawled out on his back, more relaxed than he had been in ages.

Not including that night Prime had told him to ‘rest well’ while he was still under the influence of the slave code.

Thinking of whom, Megatron glanced down at the top of Prime’s helm. His co-ruler was deep in recharge, head pillowed on Megatron’s chest, and systems quiet.

Megatron looked out through the transparasteel that led to their balcony. The rising sun was reflecting a hazy pink-red off the scarred face of the next tower over. It was still early then.

It was strange to see Cybertron with the light of a sun again, and he genuinely looked forward to having the top floor with its many windows. Eventually he and Prime would have the entire top floor of this tower as their residence, but it was in no condition for occupation right now, and certainly not a priority.

The sun was something he had appreciated on Earth, not that he would ever have said so to anyone. Even Ironhide was too young to remember when Cybertron orbited its own sun, so it would have been pointless, and likely sounded more sentimental than it was. He simply liked it.

The pink-red was becoming more and more orange, and Prime stirred, stretching against Megatron and slipping to the side. Blue optics blinked on, flickering a moment in the last vestiges of recharge.

“Good morning.”

Megatron let his gaze sweep down Prime’s body. “It could be.”

Prime snickered, and stretched again, this time with some deliberation. “You just had me last night.”

“No, you had me.” Megatron rolled quickly, pinning Prime under him, and getting a smirk and a raised optic ridge for it. “I believe I’ll have you now.”

Prime hummed a noncommittal sound, but met Megatron’s kiss with all the passion he was coming to expect from the Autobot. Megatron enjoyed the fact he could get Prime’s systems revved by only a kiss, and nibbled, sucked, and plundered his mouth until Prime’s cooling vents whirred to life.

Megatron nipped a trail from Prime’s lips to his throat, listening as Prime panted and clutched at his shoulders. He worked his fingers between armor plates and teased wires, lips and tongue following the same sweeping path down Prime’s body. Megatron brushed the backs of his fingers over Prime’s interface panel and it retracted instantly, spontaneously. He grinned as Prime writhed under him, and stroked his thumb over the small valve opening. Prime moaned, hips bucking, fingers digging into the padding of their berth.

“Sensitive,” Megatron murmured, sliding lower. He dipped one finger into Prime’s valve and paused. There was an actual _seal_ there!

Megatron massaged the sensor nodes he could, letting his thumb play over the external node between valve and spike housing, considering.

Prime’s seal wouldn’t be the first he had broken, but it did change his plans a little. And he was genuinely surprised. When the war first broke out, it was brutal on all sides. Rape was never something Megatron allowed, nevertheless it happened all too often. Worse, it was silently condoned as a way to subdue rebels by Sentinel Prime’s administration. Many Decepticons either picked a friend, or went to a medic to have their seals broken. Better that than to allow an enemy to do so as a means of torture. Megatron had honored a number of his top recruits by being the one to break them in.

And it was painful even under the best of circumstances. Megatron knew all too well how very painful a seal-breaking could be.

Decision made, he moved his finger from Prime’s valve to his spike cover, teasing the edges as he trailed kisses lower across Prime’s abdomen. Megatron pressed a little more firmly with his fingers, and Prime’s spike extended. He gasped as Megatron kissed lower still. Megatron looked up, catching Prime’s optics with his own.

“You aren’t really- Ooohhh!”

Megatron chuckled, letting the vibrations tickle Prime’s spike as he lowered his mouth over it.

“Primus!”

Megatron stopped. “Wrong. Try again.”

Prime writhed, whimpering, vents running high. “Megatron,” he gasped.

“Better,” Megatron purred and took Prime back into his mouth.

Panting, the words broken by his intense pleasure, Prime sputtered out, “Never thought… _you_ would do-“ he cut off with another moan.

Megatron chuckled, and pulled away again. “Unmaker take me,” he said, “is this yet another thing you’ve never done?” At Prime’s head shake, Megatron sighed in an overly dramatic fashion. “ _Who_ was in charge of your education in these matters? I’m not sure whether I should beat him, or fall at his feet in gratitude.”

“Thought you didn’t kneel for others?” Prime asked, wriggling his hips in blatant demand.

“I’m kneeling at your feet right now.” Megatron cut off whatever Prime might have been about to say by drawing him as deep as he could, sucking hard. He pinned Prime’s hips down with one hand, and returned to teasing his valve with the other.

Prime squirmed, hips rocking up and back as much as he could as Megatron teased him to the very edge of overload.

Then stopped.

Prime cried out, reaching for Megatron. He batted Prime’s hands away, and slid lower, pushing Prime’s legs further apart.

Megatron nipped along Prime’s inner thigh, burrowing his face into the joint, sucking and biting the strong cables there. Prime cried out again, body spasming, foot kicking out in reaction. Megatron licked his way inward, tongue stroking the edges of Prime’s valve and teasing the external node. He spread one hand across Prime’s abdomen, and wrapped the other around Prime’s thigh to hold his legs open.

In no time at all those little half-choked whimpers were back. Prime’s hips rocked in hitched little movements, and one hand was clutching the back of Megatron’s head, holding him in tight. The click of Megatron’s interface panel retracting and spike extending was covered by Prime’s cries as they got louder and louder.

Megatron brushed the hand on his head away, thrusting his tongue in and out of Prime’s valve, then _sucked_ on the external node. Prime’s shout echoed in the confines of their empty quarters, back bowing off the berth as he overloaded.

Pressing his thumb over the external node to extend Prime’s overload, Megatron shifted up. Moving quickly, he gripped Prime’s hips, and with one forceful thrust, broke past the seal, and buried himself in Prime’s valve.

Blue optics shot wide, and blazed nearly white. A near-scream of pain, the likes of which Megatron had never heard during any of their battles, burst from Prime. His hands clamped to Megatron’s shoulders, trying to shove him away.

Megatron lowered himself down, wrapping his arms under Prime, and holding tight. “Calm down. Let your body go limp.”

“Fragging hurt!” Prime snapped, still wriggling and trying to shove Megatron away. “In the middle of an overload! You sadistic glitch-headed slagger!”

Megatron burrowed into Prime’s neck, nuzzling and kissing him, fighting to keep away the laughter. They may call each other names, but cussing had never really been Prime’s style. It helped that his spike was encased in an exquisitely tight and spasming valve. “You still had a seal,” Megatron murmured.

“You could have warned me!” Prime snarled, and gave up trying to push Megatron off of him.

“Relax,” Megatron whispered. He stroked his fingers along the back of Prime’s neck, kissing his way to Prime’s lips. “If I had warned you, you would have been bracing for it instead of enjoying yourself, and it would have hurt much more.” He focused a little on what he could feel. The spasms had all but stopped, and if Prime would just _relax_ instead of holding himself so tense, he would begin to enjoy it.

Megatron waited, resisting the urge to move as Prime squirmed, moving his legs, his valve rippling a little. Prime’s joints eased slightly, some of the tension drained away, then a little more. Megatron started over from the beginning, kissing Prime deeply, claiming every bit of his mouth, fingers teasing wires, stroking lines.

Prime drew his legs up, thighs pressing into the sides of Megatron’s hips. “Move,” he whispered, squirming in arousal now, rather than pain.

Megaton rolled them over, biting back a moan at the pleasure that radiated out from his spike with the movement. Prime gasped, hands clutching at Megatron’s shoulders.

“You know how to do this,” Megatron murmured, settling his hands on Prime’s hips. He was panting with the effort it took not to thrust up into the tight heat. This position gave Prime more control, but also settled Megaton deeper inside him.

Prime nodded, optics shuttering as he leaned forward, and rocked back and forth a little, testing the sensations. “Please,” he whispered, pushing down onto Megatron harder. “Help me, move with me.”

Megatron started them off slow, gradually thrusting harder and faster as they found a rhythm. Prime’s mouth was open, panting, optics clenched shut. The choked needy whimpers were back, and Megatron found himself moaning low, and fighting against the rising tide of charge in his body.

Prime’s movements became jerky, his face flushing deep pink. All sound stopped, Prime’s head arched back. Megatron growled, listening as the rumbling moan grew louder. Prime pushed his hips down into Megatron’s thrust, and held there as Megatron continued to move. The deep moan suddenly shifted into sharp cries, and Prime fell forward against him.

Megatron rolled them, hands still on Prime’s hips as his drove in hard, burying his spike repeatedly into the hot wet valve clenching in waves around him. He covered Prime’s mouth with his own, swallowing the sobs of ecstasy. He moaned, thrusting twice more, then holding deep as he climaxed, systems roaring in pleasure.

Purring as he came down from the high, Megatron nuzzled into Prime’s neck. “Very good,” he murmured.

Prime purred back, holding on with both his arms and legs. “Do you think it would cause the others to lose respect for us if we just canceled the meetings and appointments for today, and stayed here instead?”

Megatron chuckled. “Better question would be to ask me if I care.” Then he laughed a little harder, moving to lie beside Prime. “Sometimes it’s a damn shame Soundwave wears those masks. I’d love to see his face as I inform him of the schedule change.”

Still looking a bit dazed, and more than a bit satisfied, Prime snickered. “That’s evil.”

“Still a Decepticon.” Megatron dragged Prime against him, kissing him fast and hard. “Go get our energon, and I’ll contact Soundwave.”

“We are not really going to lie in our berth all day?”

Megatron smirked, rose, and switched on the vidscreen. “You might want to close your panel. The berth is visible from here.” The screen chimed to signal the communications was being answered, and Prime scrambled to get off the berth and out of sight.

Soundwave, circumspect as ever, did not comment on Megatron’s roaring laughter.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Nothing Just Happened](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7263271) by [LB82](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LB82/pseuds/LB82)




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